Please let me know if/when you run this again.
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So what was setting the Orcs off? What was this 'Doom' driving them out of their homelands?
I did. :( I was looking forward to ambushing the saboteur after that distraction he or she pulled... Will you tell us who they were and what their scheme was all about?
Expecting a gang of Goblins to crash the reception, are you? :p
Oh? You're hoping to use the romantic spray of autumn leaves as a background?
Congratulations, Motteditor! ^^ When's the date?
Illa remains in the trap room, hiding behind the door -- with her wand at the ready in one hand, her blade in the other.
HAPPY NEW YEAR! ^^
"The bodies... will have to wait until we have completed our initial setup," Illa says. "I need to make accurate measurements on the room."
MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! ^^
"Hmmm," Illa says as she looks the map over. "About that dungeon room I asked about, sergeant... How soon could you have a portable forge and a desk moved in there? Provided such things are available, of course. And possibly a cot. I may need to meditate on-site once we get started."
"A dungeon room would be good," Ill says in an offhanded manner.
"We'll need to prep some, first," Illa says, stroking her chin. "Secure a room, Put some guards on it. Squirrel away some alchemical rubbish, some quality parchment for scroll-scribing, maybe some metalworking equipment if any can be spared. It needs to look, smell and quack like a duck before we can expect to lure out a weasel."
Illa stands silent in thought, her brow wrinkled. "This is tricky," she says. "Perhaps..." Abruptly, the Elf lowers her voice. "Perhaps we should practice a deception? Make mention of some secret weapon we are concocting, then set a trap?"
Anyone speak Auran? ^^;
Illa nods at Galvrin.
*** , Illa considers her options -- and takes out her wand. She gives the wand a squeeze and summons a small air elemental. "Wait," she orders, "wait." She takes a few steps to the side, then gestures sharply at the air elemental, pointing at the door. "Advance!" she orders.
"That's the first spell of invisibility," Illa says, nodding. "There's a more powerful version, though, which doesn't end when the one enchanted attacks. Let's hope that isn't being used... Or teleportation spells. There are some relatively low-level ones which still allow for a goodly distance travelled." Illa ponders for a moment, then nods. "Invisibility spells do not make you intangible. Setting traps would still work. Heck, casting flour or fine sand on the floors would still reveal footprints."
"Yes, we should," Illa agrees, her voice grim and her face slightly haggard; the spellwork may have been splendid, but it clearly took a fair bit out of the Elfmaid. "All critical areas need to be guarded by at least ten at a time. As for next battle; that all sounds grand. If we've got someone who can speak Terran, I can summon earth elementals to muck up the ground. It's just I can't speak their language to give precision instructions." *** Later, Illa takes a brief detour to the dead Warmage's quarters, and scrutinizes the door, checking whether she can at least identify the protections he left behind.
"Dyalg, take command!" Illa says, beckoning urgently to the more experienced soldier. "I'll be at the battlements casting, you need to keep oversight over the whole operation." With that, Illa strides forward, her cloak billowing out behind her like a storm crow's wings. "Sound the battlecry!" she roars. "Raise the new banner!"
What's the range on your fear-powers?
"Graah," Illa says. Goblin:
"Take the bag of dust. Get on that roc. Drop the dust on them where you think it will do the most damage. Go." The Elf marches out in plain sight of the soldiers and roars: "Have no fear! If it won't rain boulders on the enemy, then it will rain FIRE! I will be your artillery! Shout out our battlecry and KILL!"
Illa grunts sourly. "It never fails. I'll take a guest room and sort out your Warmage's room when I'm awake, but I'm doubling up with one of my companions. Here's an order for the whole fortress, sarge: no one is to be left alone, waking or sleeping. We've had enough murders, privacy be damned."
"I need sleep," Illa announces. "Well, you know, meditation. If I don't get my eight hours, I won't be able to cast when it counts. Now, I heard the fortress used to have a spellcaster, a warmage. Is there any problem if I take his quarters over for the duration?"
"Pass on my message anyway," Illa says. "Perhaps your lady master will surprise both of us." The Elf turns her back on the war-leader without another word and walks back to the fortress.
"Tell her not to let fear goad her into acting unwisely," Illa growls. "Though it galls me to say it, if she has a unique insight into some threat approaching, I will hear her out. Though it may gall you and her to hear it, the strength of the Orc is not unsurpassed in this world. Should Doom approach, Orc strength alone may not be enough to counter it, but there are other powers. And if you seek victory, you take whichever weapon comes to hand, after all."
"We're not hiding," Illa says, turning that disturbing grin on the Orc. "We are waiting. It is so much more fun when the prey comes walking up to be slaughtered." She lets those words hang for a moment, and then makes a dismissive gesture. "Send a runner to tell your true leader that I am willing to talk to her. If she has wisdom, she will accept. Bleeding and smashing your people against the wall avails her nothing if Doom is truly coming. I will give her my personal guarantee of safe passage for the duration of parley, should she be concerned for her safety."
"Hressghkit!"
Elven:
Something Very Rude. "If this 'Mother Hagna' directs you, then she must be the leader," Illa snarls. "Why is she not here to parley? And what is this doom you speak of? If you are fleeing something in terror" -- the Elf's voice is momentarily filled with sly mockery -- "perhaps you should have come with the flag first, and asked for help more nicely."
"You want us to run without a fight?" Illa sneers. "What do you take us for? Drow? Maybe Mites? As surely as I am Illa, fifth daughter of House Ashshade, you insult not only my honour, but that of each and every warrior ranged behind us! I asked what you want here. There has been peace, trade, all of that. Why do you now bring disruption?"
Illa walks to within 500 ft. of the Orcs and holds position there. She meets the leader's eyes and, without breaking eye contact, gently, slowly draws her sword and lightle leans her hands on the pommel. Then, she grins and beckons the Orcs closer. The expression is utterly mirthless and frankly, slightly disturbing on an Elven face. The fact that only slightly accented Orcish comes rolling over lips once the Orcs come within range may be even moreso. Orcish:
"After this, we will speak the Common tongue. Not all my troops speak yours, and I want there to be no mistake about what is said here." Switching back to Common, she continues: "Which of you claims leadership over your horde, and what do you want?"
"I want archers ready, but hiding behind the crenellations," Illa says. "If we don't make it back, command goes back to the officers. And they're to act like officers, not brawlers! We'll go out, hold position within bowshot and wait for them. If anyone fires without our command, I will hang that man from the wall."
"If it was even them who did it," Illa says, frowning. "It's pretty subtle, for Orcs. I could see them chucking that muck at people in battle, but sneaking it into an enemy fortress is... exemplary. Either we're dealing with an innovative thinker or two among the Orcs, or there's someone else calling the shots."
"You should keep your mouth shut?" Illa says, grinning as she walks down the corridor and towards the parlay. "Last time I talked to my cousin, he tried to declare a blood feud against my family. He was so angry, it took two of my uncles to hold him down, and five of my aunts to get it through his thick skull that he couldn't declare blood feud against his own family!"
"Right. Five of them, five of us," Illa says. "Get the sergeant, I want to relay some orders, like no shooting the negotiators unless I say so. Guys? You feel up to some parleying?"
"We go and meet them, of course," Illa says, shrugging. "But make sure we can get back inside in a hurry if it goes south, and none of the fortress' officers can go; they're needed."
"How many of them?" Illa asks.
"Settle down," Illa tells the guard. "Do you think your commanders would have wanted gear that can help save us all from an ugly death on an Orc spit to be buried or burned with them? Graah is an ally. Get used to it." Illa takes a closer look at the amulet, frowning in concentration.
"Looks like it, alright," Illa says, grinning.
"Because if we have a smoke bomb," Illa says, turning to Corvus and Graah with what might be termed a nasty grin on a face not so clearly Elven, "I have a little job for you guys and the roc that is probably right up your alley."
"Don't just put it in your pocket! One tiny hole and you could spread a killing rage through the whole fort!" Illa says, wide-eyed. She addresses one of the guards. "Do you know where to get a box with a tight-fitting lid and a lock? Yes? Go get it, and hurry! That stuff is dangerous beyond belief!" Turning back to Galvrin, Illa replies: "It's supposed to lose its effectiveness after use. Unfortunately, the only way to use it is to unleash it on some victim... Hmmm..." Illa turns to the sergeant. "Do we have any smoke bombs, perhaps...?"
"Tch!" Illa says, baring her teeth in disgust. "I know that stuff! It's crimson rage dust, it drives anyone who inhales it and can't overcome the toxin into a killing rampage. We need to contain the unused dust in an airtight container, and this room needs to be cleansed as quickly as possible."
Illa subjects the powder to an intense ...
"I'd come in and see, but if that spell mucks up my brain I'll start flinging around magic," Illa says, dryly. "Can you show it to me?"
"Galvrin?" Illa calls. "How you doing in there, buddy?"
Incredibly, Illa's rapier speaks up in flawless Common: "I don't want these louts to hold me. They don't look as if they've washed their hands in the past year! That and they're dirty old hu--" Illa raps the sword's hilt with a knuckle. "That will do," she says in a very... decided tone of voice. "Just open the door for now so we can look inside, gents. I want to scan for residual magics first, anyway."
Illa casts a brief spell and glares at the door. "I'll be the judge of that," she says. She briefly turns to Dyalg. "We might want to get Malmoth in here, though, for a Cleric's point of view."
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